Rafiel laughed. It was weak laughter. Not so much amusement, as a reflex of relief. He remembered Tom, once, running naked down the street, save for his all-prized jacket and his boots.
"It's not funny," Tom said.
"Yes, it is. You have an unnatural attachment to those boots."
"They're mine, and I like them," Tom said. Still driving like a maniac, he turned to glower at Rafiel. "I haven't had many things in my life that I could hold onto, you know? Things that were mine, I mean."
"Yes, but why in the name of all that's holy would the things you want to hold onto be items of apparel when you are a shifter?" Rafiel asked, smiling.
Tom shrugged. "It was all I had before settling down. All I had were the clothes on my back."
"Right. Well, it's unlikely the creature knows how attached you are to your boots, so you'll probably be safe," he said. "Meaning he won't piss in them. And if he does, I'll buy you new boots."
"Thank you. I like the ones I have."
"Unnatural," Rafiel said. "But I'm not going back to get them. Not even for you, my friend."
"Ah, look, the dire wolf will probably be gone and besides we can't leave them behind. Someone will go to the aquarium. Someone will know we broke in."
Rafiel looked at him, disbelieving. "You have to be joking."
"No, I'm not. It's my boots, and they'll figure out they're mine, and next thing you know, they'll be talking about my pushing people into the shark tank or something."
Rafiel groaned, seeing what he meant. "Oh okay, fine. But if the car is still there, I'm not going in. I'm just not. And I suspect we left blood all over the floor and isn't that enough to show I was there? What do the boots matter? I'll just have to try to divert any investigation that—"
"Rafiel, you were shifted. They'll find lion's blood." He gave Rafiel a sideways look. "On the other hand, unless I'm wrong, you also left your cell phone and your clothes and your official identification there. So you'll have to have a really good story to explain having been in there . . ."
"I could tell them I lost them this morning, when I was there with Lei."
"What? And your clothes? Shredded as if you'd burst out of them?"
Rafiel groaned and heard himself swearing softly. "Fine, we'll go back. I'm trying to figure out how the day could get any worse."
Which was a stupid thing to say, he realized, as he heard the siren behind him, and saw the flashing lights in the rear view mirror. "Don't worry," he told Tom, as Tom smashed his foot on the gas. "I'm a policeman."
"What, naked, in the car, with another man, in public? How much authority will you have, Officer Trall?"
"They . . . uh." Naked in public was the problem. They'd bring him up on an indecency charge so fast. He looked back. "We could get dressed."
"Fast enough? Before he comes up to the window?"
It might have been possible if they were being followed by a police car. The cop would have had to park way behind them, and then approach them carefully. But Rafiel could see that there was a motorcycle cop in hot pursuit. "We can't outrun it. He probably already has my license plate and—"
"Right," Tom said. "There's only one thing to do. But afterwards, you have to get me a burger. No. A dozen of them."
"Sure thing," Rafiel said, not absolutely sure what Tom meant to do and not caring either. "I have money under the seat, with the clothes. We don't even have to wait till we get my wallet." At this point, anything Tom could do to get them out of this fix was worth it.
"Right." Tom said. "But you have to drive. Can you drive?"
"Sure. I'll use my left foot."
Tom pulled over and stopped. Something to the way he clenched the wheel, the way his nails seemed to elongate slowly, the way his bone structure appeared to change, made Rafiel want to scream, Don't shift in my car. But when Tom was already this much on edge, all the scream would do was cause him to shift immediately. He bit his tongue and held his breath.
Tom rolled down the window, then grasped the handle. His voice all hissy and slurpy, as if his dental structure had already shifted, he said, "The moment I get out, drive. Just drive straight. I'll catch up."
"Tom . . . don't—" He was going to tell him not to eat the man, but didn't have time.
There was a voice from the open window. "Sir, you were doing . . . What—"
Tom opened the door and leapt out, while shifting—so that the effect was rather like a kernel of corn popping—bursting and exploding into a massive, much larger form, as it escaped the confines of its skin.
There was a strangled scream from the policeman, and Rafiel switched seats and closed the door and drove straight ahead. He was on Fairfax, he realized. The world's longest, straight thoroughfare. It was listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as such. He hoped it was long enough to allow Rafiel to still be on it whenever Tom caught up.
"Don't eat him," Rafiel yelled and rolled up the window, as he drove. He didn't know if Tom had heard him.